Dare to Believe
by Eleora
Summary: They made a mistake. They underestimated me, and now they’re about to find out just who Neville Longbottom is. They’re about to find out just how much of a mistake they made when they elected me as Minister.


They thought they could control me. They thought I would be their puppet. They watched me, and all they saw was a bumbling child, as eager to please as a well-trained dog.

They were fools.

They forgot who I was; who my parents were. They looked at me, and they saw weakness. Pity him, yes—for being the son of two insane Aurors. Coddle him, yes—surely this weakling will crack at the first sign of danger. But never, ever depend on him to lead or protect; to fight.

They forgot who I was—or perhaps, none of them ever knew me. Did they ever stop to ask themselves "Why Gryffindor?" I could have gone to Hufflepuff—Ravenclaw or Slytherin as well—but I was sorted into _Gryffindor_. Gryffindor: the home of the brave, the strong. I was placed there for a reason—did anyone ever stop to wonder what that reason was? Perhaps if they had, they could have avoided this—prevented their own destruction at the hands of a twenty-year old wizard.

They made a mistake. They underestimated me, and now they're about to find out just who Neville Longbottom is. They're about to find out just how much of a mistake they made when they elected me as Minister.

I am no man's puppet. If the years have taught me anything, it is that. You may very well pity me; you may hate me, you may curse me—but you cannot manipulate me. No longer will I be Neville—clumsy oaf, stupid Gryffindor, the Boy-Who-Could-Have-Been. My fate was decided twenty years ago when a Dark Lord challenged a different child and in doing so changed the course of history.

I see Harry Potter now, and I thank whatever gods there may be that I am not like him. The-Boy-Who-Lived is caught and bound as surely as a fly on a spider's web. It's only a matter of time before he is left with no options at all—reduced to another mindless minion of Dumbledore's.

Harry Potter saved me from that life, whether he intended to or not. I can only hope to do the same for him. After all, how can the Chosen One, the Savior of the Wizarding World hope to free others, when he himself is bound? No, the time has come to shed the bonds that hold us back, and end this infuriating war once and for all.

I can only hope I am up to the task. It will be dangerous—yes. If I am found out, I could be branded a traitor against the entire Wizarding World. But the risk of allowing the Magic Society to continue as it has for the past few centuries far outweighs the dangers that will face me personally.

Far too many people have died in this war—this stupid, pointless war between "Light" and "Dark." What is light—is it not merely the absence of dark? What is dark—is it not merely the absence of light? How then, will either side exist when the other is extinguished? If there is no light, it quite obviously cannot have been there to be absent—and therefore, there is no dark. To eliminate one will be to eliminate both. There must be a balance—there always has been, and it must be restored.

Justice will be served, of course: it must—but justice is not a matter of eliminating everything that goes against your own personal beliefs and morals. There are those on the "Light" side that have committed atrocities that would curdle anyone's blood, just as there are those on the "Dark" side who have helped their enemies, or protected innocents. Justice does not mean pointing to a faction and wiping them out for the deeds of one member. It is so much more than that—a weighing of the very soul of a man. The Ancient Egyptians believed much the same—that their hearts would be weighed against a feather, and should they be found lacking, justice would be served. Their ways were primitive, true—but far more just than ours.

This corruption has gone on far too long; our numbers have plummeted over the last century as the constant battles between "Light Lords" and "Dark Lords" continue. It must end, and it must end soon. There are far too many things at risk—every battle fought inches us one step closer to discovery, while every death brings us one step closer to extinction.

I will not permit either of those to happen—I cannot. To do so would defy every truth I have ever learned from the time I was born through the years I was raised by my grandmother—even as I was tortured and cursed and insulted. I would go through much more to save my people.

Yes—the people of the Wizarding World were fools to trust me; fools to believe I would smile and nod complacently as the world rushed by. They will hate me, they will love me: they will do whatever they must to survive. I will break this World if I have to—but I swear to god I will see it fixed: I owe it that much at least.

Perhaps I will fail and be seen as another Dark Lord. Perhaps my efforts to save this world will end in ruin—but it is a risk that must be taken. I can only pray to god that I will succeed.

"Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever **dared** to dream before." Edgar Allen Poe


End file.
